


Alcohol, Kilts and Gay Panic

by Morphinity



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley in a Kilt, Crowley is Gay Panic disguised as a demon, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, first kiss?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19485877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morphinity/pseuds/Morphinity
Summary: Crowley figures out that Alcohol isn't the solution to Gay Panic.Especially when the reason for your Gay Panic shows up in front of your door.





	Alcohol, Kilts and Gay Panic

**Author's Note:**

> I had needs for Crowley in a Kilt so here we are ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

So the Armaggedidn’t was over, everything was fine.

Technically.

Nonetheless, Crowley didn’t feel fine, which might or might not have to do with the fact that he was completely shitfaced.

In all honesty, he wasn't even sure if he was still shitfaced or if it was a case of being shitfaced again, with barely enough time in between to sober up.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true either, he wasn’t shitfaced, he was currently nearing the end of being shitfaced if he interpreted the headache, that started to form behind his temples, which also explained why he felt like shit.

However, one way or the other his point stood.,It absolutely sucked.

Crowley groaned and pulled a grimace, he felt like hell, pun intended, he couldn’t remember the last time he had had a hangover this bad, mostly because those usually were easily fixed with a small demonic miracle.

Usually.

Currently, he just felt too wasted for one of those, so suffering it was, which also fit with his general mood of self-loathing so he guessed it was fine.

To come to the point why he had deemed it necessary to get wasted, well….

Aziraphale.

Not that the angel was the reason itself, but he had certainly played a big part in it, the actual reason was Crowley's own Cowardice.

The Cowardice that had made him run away from a kiss with the Angel he had been in love with for over 6000 years. He couldn’t even explain it himself, but when the Angel had leaned in, he had fled as if hellhounds were after him, leaving a stunned Aziraphale behind.

Where this had led him, was quite obvious if you considered his current state and it certainly explained his mood.

Crowley frowned, not exactly something he wanted to remember.

But before he could get lost further in the past, past was maybe a bit dramatic considering it had been only like three days (he wasn’t sure), or start drinking again a knock at the door interrupted what was to come, making him grumble.

That was for two reasons, the first one being that it didn’t help his headache at all, the second one being, that there was only one person, who was aware where he lived and would come over to knock.

Aziraphale.

Not ready to face hi…the angel just now he simply miracled the door open with a flick of his wrist, so the other could enter, while he stayed where he was, showing no sign of wanting to move anytime soon.

„Oh, dear…“, he heard Aziraphale's soft voice and he turned his head slightly, lazily blinking at the other. „Angel. “, he replied, voice scratchy.

„You look like a mess. “

Crowley snorted in response. He guessed he did. „Yeah…but I’m a hot mess. “, he countered, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips which only made the Angel sigh in exasperation.

„Really? “ Just how drunk were you last night? “ Aziraphale questioned, mustering the other, before letting the hangover vanish with a snap of his fingers since the other didn’t seem like he would do it himself, making Crowley sigh in relief.

„Dunno, but can't be that bad if I’m still wearing pants. “

He was pretty sure he was wearing some at least.

„Those aren't your pants.“, the Angel pointed out. „Nor are they pants for that matter. “

„Huuuuh…“, Crowley looked down at himself. „Guess you’re right but still mine, Scotland seventeen something. “, he pointed out, but he still had to admit that he had no clue since when or why he was wearing a kilt.

With a groan, he sat up and stretched himself. „Why are you here anyway, Angel?” he asked, fixating the other, who got a slightly defensive look. „I…I was worried okay?! You just up and vanished and I haven’t seen you in days, I thought maybe Hell wanted another try at throwing you into holy water. “, Aziraphale huffed and Crowley couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face.

It was nice to hear that someone worried about you.

He shrugged slightly.

"Nah haven't heard of them since the…“, he waved his hand around indicating their switch. "Pretty sure, we'll get a bit of free time until they decide to bother any of us again. “, he got up from the couch, quite glad that the Angel hadn’t brought their almost kiss up.

"Something to drink?“, he asked then, because he still had manners or something resembling manners at least.

“I … Yes, please, but no more alcohol, I think you had enough for a while.”

It seemed like Aziraphale wanted to say something different, but couldn’t bring himself too. Crowley hoped it would stay that way, because he really, really didn’t want to have the feelings talk right now, or ever for that matter but definitely not now.

He left the other in his living room and went into his, mostly unused kitchen, to brew some tea. Aziraphale liked tea and it would give him a few more minutes where he wouldn’t need to explain his current…. Emotional constipation? Gay crisis?

He wasn’t even sure what to call it, either way, he’d prefer to ignore it for like at least another 6000 years if possible.

Sadly, tea only took a few minutes and so it wasn’t that long before he returned to the angel, two steaming mugs in his hand, handing on of the angel, who by now sat on the couch before settling down next to him, trying to look casual.

“So…” Aziraphale started after sipping on his tea, nearly making Crowley jump. “You planning on keeping that on?” he asked, gesticulating to the Kilt.

“What? Yeah, I guess. Why? You don’t like it?” Crowley asked, sounding only half as suave as he wanted too.

“No, no was just wondering.” Aziraphale sipped on his tea once more. “W….Why did you run?” he asked then, voice soft, making Crowley splutter, nearly suffocating himself on scalding hot tea.

“Uhh…” he made helplessly.

“If you didn’t want too, you could have just said so. I just thought-” “NO!” Crowley exclaimed, startling Aziraphale, who looked at him with big eyes.

“It’s not like I don’t want to kiss you.” It also wouldn’t be the first time, there had been times in human history when kissing each other was a perfectly normal greeting. But this was different. There were feelings involved and stuff. “I just…I just panicked okay?.” There, he had said it.

“You what now?” Aziraphale asked flabbergasted, this apparently hadn’t been what he had expected.

“I panicked. I was so close to getting all I ever wanted and then I panicked because I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Explaining it was hard, Crowley ran his hands through his hair, which had grown longer during the last few days.

“…all you’ve ever wanted? Then do it.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

Crowley could only stare at his Angel, who looked at him with an expectant face. And who was he to say no to such a request.

Leaning forward he cradled the others face, as if he was fragile, before pressing his lips against the Angels.

What started out soft quickly turned hungry. Aziraphale's fingers buried themselves in Crowley's red locks tugging him closer, which the demon took as a clear invitation to stop holding back. He slipped his tongue past the other's lips, kissing him as if there would be no tomorrow. Neither Angels nor Demons needed to breathe so there was no reason to pull apart. Besides maybe telling his Angel how perfect he was.

Crowley nipped at Aziraphale lower lip before slowly pulling back, to press his forehead against the others.

“I love you, Angel.”

“I know.”

Crowley blinked.

“Did you just Han Solo me?”

“Han So what?”

“-I can’t believe it!”, Crowley mutter incredulously, which made Aziraphale laugh.

“I love you too.”, his Angel said with a soft smile, pecking him on the lips.

“If you run the next time I’ll hunt you down.”

Now it was Crowley's turn to start laughing.

“Didn’t you already do that?”, he asked amused. “But I’m glad you did.”, he added tangling their fingers together.

“So am I. You should also wear Kilts more often they work great with your legs."

Crowley could only groan in response.


End file.
